Author note: This is my first submission. Also, for some reason, the tab-indent thingy isn't saving into my doc properly, so I apologize if it's slightly harder to read.

Author Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, settings, or canon of World of Warcraft. Blizzard does.

A small, dark figure sat in a grove of trees, silent. Her dark green hair and glowing eyes were a sharp contrast to her pale white skin and sky-blue lips. Daggers lay at her sides, names etched into the handles: Slice and Dice. Her gloves and boots were thick and brown, her armor, leather worked from slightly demonic animals, was dark as a moon less night. Chalk-white bones were visible at the knees and elbows. She was Forsaken, un-dead with a free will from the vile Arthas whom raised her from her grave.
A similar figure, clad in blue-green priestly vestment, entered the clearing.
"There's need of you in Undercity, Scynta. Big V has a job for you." he said, his voice raspy and old.
"Damnit, I'm in the middle of something. Can it wait?" She replied, Her voice scratchy.
"No, and besides, as a Death-stalker..."
"Varithamus is my commanding officer, I know."
"Exactly. Move it, little rogue." Kayles said, the last part in Gutterspeak, his nickname for her. Krick-Khanya, the little rogue.
"I'm going, Kayles." she said, smirking. She made no further complaints as she picked up her knives.
The ruins of Lordaerun served the Forsaken as a constant reminder of what the full fury of the Scourge, their vile, mindless cousins, could do. Once the greatest city in Azeroth, now a great heap of rubble. Underneath it lay the Undercity, grand capital of the Forsaken, ruled over by Sylvanas and Varithamus. Large bovine-like Tauren bumped into her and muttered apologies. Big green Orcs jostled her and said nothing. Blue-hued Trolls collided with her and helped her up, condemning their clumsiness. She ran to Varithamus as fast as her legs could carry her. She arrived at his feet, panting, bowing and internally swearing him to a million wonderful deaths.
"You... are... late." he said, impatient. "No matter. I have a job for you, Krick-Khanya."
"Yes?" asked Scynta. Varithamus glared at her. "Milord?" she added hastily.
"This is a simple job. I will pay you much. Take this package to Thrall," He snapped his clawed fingers and a package appeared in his hand. "And do not pause, young one. This is of grand importance."
"Yes, milord, I will be in Orgrimmar as soon as possible. I will not delay."
She left Undercity with the package tucked under her arm. Good, the blimp to the other continent is just now coming in.
Azeroth was once a single continent. But a huge army of demons, the Burning Legion, invaded the central city via a huge magical centre of power. The last option the people had to save Azeroth was to turn the magic of the Moonwell in on itself. The resulting cataclysmic explosion ripped the world apart, leaving a huge void where the Moonwell once sat. The halves of the world-Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms- were created as a result as well.
She boarded the next flight to Kalimdor. The blimp's massive propellers spun, and they were off. A routine job, thought Scynta. It would turn out as anything but.

Scyna sat on the wooden boat that carried them presently over the Great Sea that separated the two continents. Passengers chatted among each other.
"Didya hear dat new rumor? Da one about da Burnin' Blade?"
"What's that?"
"The demonic cult is opening a grand portal in Ragefire Chasm, right unda Thrall's feet."
"Nah, that can't be true. Vol'jin woulda sensed it by now..."
"I'm not so sure, nowadays, ya can never be too sure..."
A chill sprinted down Scynta's spine. The first Burning Legion got into the world because of an arrogant elf... and an Orc might unleash it next.
The boat shook violently.
"What was that!"
"Look, off the Port side!"